


Out Of The Woods

by Rixxy8173571m3W1p3



Series: The Fluffy Adventures With Your Boyfriend Doofus Rick [73]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Adorable Doofus Rick (Rick and Morty), Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Timelines, Ambiguous Relationships, Assumptions, Backstory, Books, Brownies, Butterbot, Comfort, Declarations Of Love, Disguise, Doofus Rick Being Sweet, Doofus is a Sweetheart, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Explanations, F/M, Feelings, Fireplaces, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Forgiveness, Friendship, Holding Hands, Hope for the future, Hurt/Comfort, I Made Myself Cry, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Inspired by Music, Inspired by Real Events, Jealousy, Kissing, Male-Female Friendship, Memories, Men Crying, Misunderstandings, Mystery, Mystery Character(s), Nostalgia, Notes, One of My Favorites, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Painting, Past, Past Character Death, Past Relationship(s), Reader Knows More Than They Let On, Rick Speaking Spanish, Romantic Fluff, Story within a Story, Tea, Technology, Time differences, ambiguous past, chopping wood, cried while writing this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-05 03:58:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17317652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rixxy8173571m3W1p3/pseuds/Rixxy8173571m3W1p3
Summary: In this fic the reader tries to uncover the mystery of the artist behind Zeta-7s portrait.





	1. A Glimpse Of The Past

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RavenousScorpian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenousScorpian/gifts), [xerxezra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xerxezra/gifts), [dorkyDisappointment](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorkyDisappointment/gifts).



> This multi chap fic has been one that I've wanted to write for a while. I'm hoping to connect a few loose ends, since my series is getting closer to the end.

For some time, Rick had been looking forward to taking you here; to the middle of nowhere, in the northwest, where enormous pine trees lined the roads, and evergreens could be found as far as the eye could see. Initially, you weren't sure what you were expecting. A Bob Ross worthy getaway perhaps? Maybe, though unlike the paintings done on PBS, there were gas stations and convenience stores which broke the harmony of trees, roads, and sky; as few and far between they were. 

The drive itself was fantastic, and the surrounding area was nice, though you had little to no cell phone reception. And since you couldn't pass the time exploring the weird parts of Reddit, you stared out the window while Zeta-7 sang along to silly travel tunes; the kind that kids would enjoy, but we're actually music recommendations from Tall Morty; another good Rick. You giggled when he sang _‘He had high apple pie, in the sky hopes’_ , but he didn't seem to mind, he was excited.

However, you were curious as to why Google maps couldn't find the address to the place you two were going to, but Rick seemed to know the directions. Honestly, as long as it wasn't like anything you'd saw in Gravity Falls, then it was going to be fine.

* * *

“W-we're here.”

Nope. This couldn't be right. Jumping out of the passenger's seat, you were taken aback and a bit creeped out by the amount of moose statues and decorations which surrounded the place as though to protect it. Could they be part of the security system perhaps? And if they were, was it generally safe to even be here? 

“We are? Really?”

“Y-you bet.”

Before your thoughts ran away with the idea, you turned towards him. “Rick, do you need any help with the luggage?”

Opening a portal, he stepped through carrying all the luggage, then reappeared in front of you a few seconds later. “No, it's - I already took care if it.”

It was just like him to be one step ahead of you. How unfair. “Rick, I could've helped you know. I'd hate for you to hurt yourself.”

“True,” he admitted matter of factly. “but if I didn't do it, then I couldn't d-do this.”

To which he then took your hand and pressed a soft kiss on it. “I-I needed to make sure you had a warm hand t-to hold. It's cooler out here th-then it is back home. ”

You gave him a playful shove in return, which made him laugh wholeheartedly before he went on explaining the brief history of this place all the while giving your hand a light squeeze.

The moose lodge, as it was named, looked more like a tacky cabin at the edge of the woods instead of the forgotten shack amidst a family of trees. It was located almost two hours away from the nearest town, and the easiest way to get there was by taking a single dirt road right off the state road twenty miles back; both of you agreed that using his portal gun would've been more convenient. The house itself used to belong to an old colleague of his, but Rick bought it a few decades ago and used it when he wanted to get away from the city, and think about life and so forth; as well as paint. Walking up the steps, he commented, “I-I know it's not much,” unlocking the front door with a moose-shaped key. “but I hope y-you'll like it.”

You really didn't want to tell him that the place looked like a tourist trap, but he stood there, waiting for your approval, nibbling on his bottom lip. 

Oh, you didn't like the overwhelming amount of moose decorations, but you smiled nonetheless. “I'm sure I will. I mean, I guess I didn't know what I was expecting, but at least it will be peaceful. Right?”

“Th-that's right.”

Whatever opinions you held about the exterior design, the interior was a different story. When he opened the door, your senses were invaded by the scent of old paint and aged wood, with hints of pine and decades-old smoke. Following right after him, you gasped at the sight of the walls; each inch of wall space covered with paintings. There were scenes and landscapes, hidden figures in the brush, creatures you couldn't begin to describe, flowers, trees, and anything which had and might still be alive; his own private art gallery. With a few clicks on his phone, the curtains opened up, allowing the light to chase away the shadows. 

And when the light settled on a particular painting, you walked past him, towards the furthest wall, nearest to the master bedroom, where a large painting hung above the fireplace; it was a portrait of him, done in the romanticism style. “Oh my God. Rick, that's…. did you paint that? I can't believe it, it's amazing.”

“N-n-no, I didn't paint th-that one, but I-I wish I did.”

You found it hard to believe because it captured his essence so perfectly. It was of his form illuminated by the mid-afternoon light, kneeling next to a flowerbed, holding an unopened rose, kissing it gently as though to bless it. His hands were covered in dirt, and his loose fitted, round-collared shirt allowed for a few chest hairs to peek out. As always, when he was around his plants, he was in this trance-like, reverent state; the quintessence of his being; peaceful and alluring in the fact that he didn't seem so broken. The closer you stood to this work of art, the more you felt as though you were staring at a historical figure rather than a throwback photo of your boyfriend.

The posture featured you'd seen him do on multiple occasions, when he took a moment to meditate, appreciating the beauty of life, and all once, you were envious of the one who got to see him this way, taking their sweet time, appreciating the inner beauty of this soft, tender, but complex man. It also reminded you that Zeta-7 had been young once, and handsome even though he thought otherwise. Touching your shoulder lightly, he sighed. “I-I know. Time hasn't been kind t-t-to me.”

“What are you talking about? You look great, but I can't believe this is the first time I'm seeing this. It's gorgeous.”

“Gee, that's - th-thank you.”

“When was this done? You look so young there.”

“Hohoho, not - not that young. It um - it was painted a-about thirty years ago, by a very good friend of-of mine.”

A good friend? Rick didn't have many _good_ friends. “Were they an artist?” you wondered.

Scratching the back of his neck, he avoided your gaze. “While she'd never claim t-t-to be, I thought she was. I um - why don't y-you make yourself comfortable while I make us s-something t-to eat.”

She? You had many other questions you wanted to ask, but knowing him and how he changed the subject, it seemed that that was the end of that; for now. “Okay,” you acquiesced, determined to bring it up at the first opportunity. “but can I pick any room I want?”

“Out of the two bedrooms? Sure g-go ahead.”

* * *

After a simple dinner, you two went for a walk. There was a slight chill in the air, but thankfully you had a sweater and a warm hand to hold as you two followed the trail. You were glad to find that you were in better shape than you had anticipated, but that's what adventuring with a mad scientist will do. Here and there he found mushrooms which he took note of to return for later, and at some point, you climbed a tree, much to his disbelief, and teased him to come after you; he did, but you received a scolding which he then after profusely apologized for.

Later, after returning, you delighted in a warm bath and thought it would be a good time to unpack. Rick had disappeared somewhere around this time, which made you wonder if he had an underground lab here. Casually, you walked past the living room, with no intention of stopping but that larger than life painting caught your eye again. Unlike the other paintings along the walls, there was no artist signature. Hmm, what a tease the artist must've been.

In comparison, Rick hadn't changed very much over the years, except for the wrinkles of course and well his hair used to be darker. Still, you couldn't help but stare at that painting, envious of this old friend of his he had mentioned. Who was she? Was she beautiful? Did she love him too?

You thought more about it as you unpacked your stuff in the small bedroom next to the art room. It wasn't so far fetched to believe that he could've had his fair share of lovers, but then you had yet to see any feminine influences about his house except for a few treasured belongings of his mother. There was the woman from his journal, but he never brought it up and you had never confessed to having invaded his privacy, so you still weren't at liberty to do so. How was it that after all this time, there was still this bloom of mystery about him? Well, because he was humble and reserved, and only shared information which wouldn't hurt him.

Oh well. You'd have to get over it someday, but was it so wrong to be jealous of someone you never met?


	2. The Girl Who Loved Him Before

You couldn't sleep. It wasn't so much the bed, which was much harder than the one you had back home, but your thoughts. Ugh, why couldn't you just turn your brain off? If you could, then maybe you wouldn't be up at 2 in the morning questioning your life choices; that or it was because you were in an unfamiliar place.

You thought of taking out your laptop to type out the draft for a new story idea you had, or to take another sedative, but you decided that maybe you could read one of the magazines you saw on the coffee table instead. Carefully, you cracked the door to your room open, checked to see if the coast was clear before you tiptoed towards the living room. Next to the couch, was a rustic coffee table created out of an old tree trunk; on it were coasters made from a young pine. Next to the pile of coasters were old science fiction magazines; all of them older than yourself. And since you couldn't find the book you saw earlier, you picked up the stack and slipped back into your room.

Just like you did when you were a kid, you hid under the duvet with a flashlight. Each magazine was in its own sleeve, and you shuffled through them until you found a hand full you liked. The one with Gort on the cover had original stories that had been sent in by fans; your favorite being The Day The Earth Stood Stupefied, which was a story about how Gort and Klaatu managed to control the masses with charisma and Rock n Roll. Another one had a series of stories which revolved around a lonely dendrologist, who alienated everyone he knew in his pursuit of knowledge; whose increased disdain for humans had led him to madness; a marriage to the forest, and whose offspring walked the earth, searching for their place in the world. The other magazines turned out to be comic books, laced with outdated tropes and humorous ads for sea monkeys and x-ray goggles. Though, the one that interested you most was the small booklet for a funeral home. 

Strange, why would this be here?

You pulled the covers down, glanced at the door just to make sure it wouldn't open before you hid again, and flipped through the booklet. From different burial arrangements to simple and ornate caskets, you assumed that either he helped with a burial or had planned one. Poor man. You placed it back in the middle of the stack where you had found it and returned the lot of it to its original place. Maybe trying to write might help quiet your brain after all.

* * *

You woke up; the cause being from the sounds which came from outside. Slipping your feet into some slippers, you stepped out of your bedroom, finding that Rick was neither in his room, kitchen, or living room. The noises got louder and seemed to be coming from the back of the house. So feeling brave, because you could totally take care of yourself, you grabbed the silly dancing moose statue from the dining table which doubled as a banana holder and stepped outside, only to find Rick pause; his ax lifted above his head, with raised brow perplexed as to what you were doing before returning to his task. “Oh, you're chopping wood.”

Log after log, he split them into smaller pieces. You had never seen him chop wood, but at the rate and diligence in which he was, made you wonder if he had cybernetic enhancements like other Ricks did; it certainly would explain a few things. When you realized that you were still holding the statue, you could only giggle at your silliness and set it down beside you as you took a seat on the porch steps; not only relieved there wasn't an intruder but pleasantly surprised by this display of masculinity. “Rick, why are you chopping wood? It's not to impress me, is it? Cause if it is, it's totally working.”

Leaning the ax against the stump, he pulled off his sweater, having warmed up from the exertion, using it to wipe his sweaty face. The t-shirt that was underneath his sweater clung to him, outlining the shape of his lean torso. Wow. “There's n-no central heating and there's going to be a cold front t-t-t-tonight. I um - I wanted to make sure there would be enough firewood.”

“Well, nothing warm hands and a pillow fort couldn't solve. Right?”

“Hohoho, n-no. Though it would be nice if that's all it - it took.”

Goodness, did you love what you were seeing, regretful that you didn't have your phone to take a pic. If he was more confident, then he'd certainly be the death of you, strolling over with a confident swagger but it didn't matter. You were so lucky to have him; dorky and all. “Rick, could you come here for a moment? I want to show you something.”

By now, you'd think he'd catch on to your mischief, but even so, he obeyed; how cute. He walked towards you, unassuming, and you stood and waited for him to be close enough so that you could lean over and kiss him. He squirmed when you did this because he was all sweaty and wanted to be all nice and clean before making any attempts of being affectionate, but you wrapped your arms around him and held him tight, determined not to let him go. “I got you, Ricky.”

“Gosh, but I'm - I-I-I shouldn't. I'm all sweaty.”

“It's okay,” you cooed, brushing his bangs away from his forehead. “I kinda like it. Besides, everyone sweats. It's only natural, and if we didn't we'd die, right? So calm down my little manly man. I'm not grossed out.”

It took him a few seconds to let this sink in.“Is there anything y-you don't like?” he wondered; neither reciprocating nor initiating.

“I don't like mosquito bites, but what does that have to do with anything? I really like you. That's what matters.”

“Th-that's - thank you. I appreciate it.”

You pressed your nose right into his hair, breathing in the scent which was naturally his intermingling with that of the forest. You knew this made him nervous, but you adored the way he smelled, especially right now; as though he'd been birthed from the ashes of pine. “You're welcome. Have you been rolling around in pine needles?” you giggled, picking out a stray leaf. “Or have you been hugging trees again? If you aren't, then maybe I should encourage it.”

“No,” he answered matter of factly. “it's um - it's from the wood. Th-they produce chemicals called terpenes, which give them their special, distinctive scent.”

“Oh Rick, when are you going to understand when I'm flirting with you?”

Scratching the back of his neck, he mumbled sheepishly. “Gee, I-I-I don't - I'm sorry.”

Reluctantly you let go, deciding that you should let him be before you had a chance to get any other mischievous ideas. “Aw, don't be sorry. You still have plenty of time to understand me. Until then, how about I make us some breakfast. Banana pancakes sound good?” 

Smiling warmly down at you, he nodded. “It s-sure does.”

* * *

After breakfast, Rick informed you that he needed to go somewhere, and you were ready to go along but he confessed. “I-I-I have to get some supplies to do a couple of repairs. I've been so busy lately that I didn't realize that there were still a-a few things t-t-to do around here before I can relax. I should be back this afternoon.”

“Rick, it sounds like you're leaving me here.”

Giving your hand a squeeze, he admitted. “I am, though only because I want to return as soon as possible. I want t-to spend as much time with you as I can. I mean, I'm going t-t-to be making repairs after I return, but in other words…..”

“You're busy,” you interrupted, pulling your hand away so you could put away the dishes. “and you wanted to take care of your errands without distractions. Fine, it's whatever. I'll be here I guess.”

The mismatched dishes were an odd contrast in comparison to the many other decorations about the place, and you were relieved by this, but annoyed that you weren't tall enough to put away the mixing bowl in its respective place on the top shelf. Seeing this, chair legs scraped against the floor, creaking in complaint as Zeta-7 crossed the room; gently removing it from your hands and putting it away. If he wasn't so darn sweet, you might actually manage to stay upset at him. “Thanks.”

Studying you, he placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “I'm s-s-so sorry princess. I promise I'll make it up to you.”

You knew he would for he always did and you followed him outside towards the car. Opening the driver's side door, he stood there, fiddling with the keychains, glancing at you, at the keys, then back at you. “It won't be long. Y-y-y-y-you know where I put the freeze ray, and where the switch for the security system is.”

“Yeah,” you answered, tugging lightly on the chain about your neck, revealing the lovely crystal you carried with you always. “and I still have the crystal necklace that I only have to squeeze to be transported to the safe room just in case.”

“Th-that's good. And the Meeseeks box is in the closet. I um - they'll help if you need them.”

“Got it. I guess I'll see you later then. Drive safely.”

You turned around to head back, having heard the car door close, thinking he was ready to go, but to your surprise, he spun you around and pulled you in for a kiss. Undemanding, he sought forgiveness on your lips, supporting you as you melted into him. When he pulled away a few seconds later, he softened. “Please don't be mad a-at me. I couldn't bear it if y-you were.”

“I'm not. Annoyed maybe, but not mad. I just wish you would've told me earlier. “ you admitted in your girlish voice. “It's nice to know these things. I had plans for us to go apple picking and thought we'd bake some apple pies together. I was really looking forward to it.”

Pressing a kiss on your temple, he sighed. “Gosh, th-that sounds perfect, but it's going to have to wait. I shouldn't neglect the repairs or else one of us c-could get hurt. I hope y-you understand.”

“I do. It's a good thing you're the responsible one. Someone has to be. Just, promise you'll be safe okay?”

“I-I will. Be careful on the front porch and inside the laundry room. There are a-a few old boards that have to be replaced.”

“Okay.”

Brushing a lock of hair away from your face, he nodded. “Bye, m-mi corazón.”

Leaning into his touch, you softened. “Return soon.”

“I will.”

You pulled away so that he would go, for he would never deliberately leave until he knew everything was alright. And when you couldn't see the car anymore, you stepped back into the house, avoiding the loose boards he had mentioned. Honestly, you didn't enjoy the idea of being left alone, especially in the middle of nowhere, but it did give you the time you needed to explore the place.

* * *

You glanced at the painting again, wishing it would talk back to you. What secrets did it hold? And why Rick, your Rick and not anyone else? Did they know there were others, or were they only acquainted with yours? Ugh, this was frustrating.

You sat back for a while, thinking of what you knew; Zeta-7 wasn't the type to pose for pictures let alone a painting, so this might've been done by memory. If it was done in the afternoon light, anytime after 4 would've been comfortable if it was done outside, but what if the lighting was symbolic as to timing and not so much literal? Oh, what did you know, except that you really hoped he wasn't holding a torch for her; if he was, it'd probably kill you. 

However, since you were here, you decided to check out the other paintings. There were a few that you realized also weren't signed and done in a similar style. There was one of a Morpho butterfly, eating a ripe banana. Then there was one of a half-eaten picnic and a cake covered in bees. The one next to it was of a labcoat draped over a chair and a forgotten candy wrapper lying on the floor. And the last one on this wall was of a diseased blue rose bush.

How odd. The familiarity of these subjects and scenes filled you with a warm nostalgia of past adventures. Was it possible that their story was similar to yours? Of course, everyone had their story, and if your assumptions were correct, then all these unsigned pieces were by her as well as these memories that she portrayed; funny and uncanny that they should like Morphos, blue roses, picnics, and Rick just like you. The only difference is that you weren't an artist, but then while they were, they didn't think so either. 

Maybe you could almost forgive this person because they had good taste in both men and painting subjects. Then again, maybe not.

* * *

Unlike the movies, the basement was well furnished and pleasant. There was a couch, a bunch of boxes stacked in the closet, and a wall of books; as could be expected from a prolific reader. You tested the couch for comfort, finding that it was way better than the bed in your room. Getting up, you perused the shelves, happy to find all your favorites as well as a couple from your wishlist; lucky you.

Picking up a leather-bound copy of Persuasion, you laid back on the couch, fluffing up the old, but clean pillows. In your hands was a well-loved copy, possibly read more times than your own. The reasons this particular Jane Austen classic held much appeal was extensive, but the main ones were because it was a story waiting, of misunderstanding, forgiveness, and reconciliation. You always got lost in the old-fashioned customs and words and it never failed to move you. However, what moved you this time when you cracked opened the book were not elegant sayings or humorous witticisms but the photographs.

Used as bookmarks, there were several Polaroids of Rick; of him dancing in an ugly sweater; of him cooking; of him playing the ukulele; of him standing as his figure was filtered amongst spring blooms; of his hands full of sunflower seeds; and of a yard full of sunflowers. You stared at these photos, dumbfounded at the similarities between the subjects and your favorite things. This book and photos must've been from her too and Ricks age in these photos matched that of the painting. Damn it.

It couldn't be true, but even inside the cover, there was a small note from Zeta-7 explaining why he gifted this book; signed with love. No, none of it could be true. However, photographs didn't lie and it meant you weren't all that special. Not caring if you stained the beginning pages with your tears, your chest ached with regret and you couldn't breathe. All this time, when your wonderful Zeta-7 paid special attention to what you loved, claiming to love only you, never wanting to lose you had turned out to be a cruel game and a lie; you being beaten by the girl who loved him before; someone who was way better than you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please check out the wonderful art done by [@ravenousscorpian](http://ravenousscorpian.tumblr.com) for two scenes out of the second chapter of this fic [Her art found here](https://ravenousscorpian.tumblr.com/post/180065933310/the-first-and-second-play-from-her-fic-and-i-took)


	3. Dare Not Say That Man Forgets Sooner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There be feels

Whatever redeeming qualities the room held in the previous happy hours were gone, and now even the remnant, lingering daydreams were falling away. With every hour you comprehended the severity of your assumptions and what the consequences were if you decided that enough was enough. Honestly, you didn't want to lose him because Zeta-7 was the light of your life; he expanded your universe and had helped you become a better person, but you could still carry on if you needed to. You had the means, your work, and an ever growing list of books to read, but was it enough, now that you had gotten a taste of the good life? Probably not.

Nothing made sense anymore.

Concerning the current situation, and all which led up to it; if you considered everything which included your existence, life till now, and all he had ever done, then there was no mistaking that he loved you; or had; at least thought he did, but it didn't change the truth of the matter; you hadn't been the first. A few hours had given you time to weep until you thought you had no tears left to cry, but there was still a thick fog over your thoughts and rationality; any shift of emotion being too much to bear. You curled into yourself, aching, hoping you'd disappear, but it didn't work; you were still here; stuck. Being at a disadvantage, not knowing how to get home and neither having a way to get there if you could was frustrating.

Who knows how long you'd been down here, despairing, wallowing in memories and dust, but you were tired, thirsty, and knew that if you didn't move he'd have trouble finding you, and yet you didn't care; let him find you; let him work for it. Though, how would that make it any better? All it would do is succeed in upsetting him before you knew all the facts. You hated this. Father always said hate was a strong word that shouldn't be taken for granted; you rarely had reason to feel as such, but the more you gleaned from those photos and the more proof you found of her presence about the place made you feel hateful and bitter. 

Thinking of her smiling at him, receiving every bit of his loving-kindness and inviting demeanor animated by unaffected good-will; his general countenance and becoming familiar with a fresher-faced creature of your dreams; holding him; touching him; loving him. Oh God no, you thought, groaning into a handmade pillow. What was worse was that you couldn't dissuade the thought of her mysterious silhouette sneaking up behind you, plunging a knife into your already fragile identity, and taking back what was hers. Your doubt feeding these ugly horrors which were hybrids of nightmares and daydreams.

Though during a brief moment of clarity, you had come to a conclusion which hardly alleviated these feelings, but we're true; it wasn't your fault. Yes, it had been your choice to accept him and be in a proper relationship with someone with an ambiguous past, and yes you did snoop around a little, but you didn't know how much he'd been hiding or searching for someone like her and had settled on silly, stupid you. Yet, no matter how much you thought about it, why chase a vision of the past and put so much effort in the present? There must've been more to this; there had to be.

Manifested, unstinted kindness and consideration and love in his form didn't happen out of the blue, it was nurtured and conditioned. Had it been her influence which made you knew? Who knows, but you had been fortunate to have had an opportunity to associate let alone form a romantic attachment, but that would soon pass away once you confronted him. Right? After a little while longer, when your heart was finally beginning to slow and thought you'd be able to catch your breath, you heard him walking about upstairs; calling and knocking.

Rick was home and you turned over on the couch and covered your ears so you wouldn't hear him; you weren't ready to deal with this; you didn't want to deal with this. In your heart of hearts, you wanted to go home, to the past, back to when there were no problems and it was just you, dad, and your dreams. If only he was still around so that he could tell you that everything was alright and it was all just a bad dream and that he could fix it, but you couldn't; only in a dream, you could. Dad always knew what was best, but you were old enough to decide for yourself now.

Did this mean you wish you never knew Rick? No, but you wished that you would've never known about all this; about her; that you could've lived in ignorance. Oh, the sweet, sweet bliss of ignorance, how wonderful it had been while it lasted. Even when his warm laughter echoed down the stairway, having found you, ready, eager and excitable to be near you, you didn't answer. You knew you weren't in the state of mind to say anything nice, that despite it all he wasn't a bad person. Yet, the moment that hand of his touched your shoulder, you hissed. “Don't touch me.”

He gasped, stunned by this uncharacteristic aggression. Maybe you weren't the nice girl he thought you were after all; especially if the rustling of his clothes alone made you angry enough to dig your nails into the couch cushions. Zeta-7 waited for a few moments, ruminating on what would be the best course of action before he knelt down to be at your level and wondered. “What's wrong? Are y-y-you hurt? Is th-there anything I can do?”

Swallowing back a sob, you silently counted to ten then answered in a listless tone. “I don't know if you can. You've… you've been hiding stuff from me.”

“Huh, I-I have? What have I…”

“Don't try to deny it.”

Pushing yourself up, you rubbed your swollen eyes and chanced a look at him; your sight fuzzy as tears threatened to fall but thankfully didn't. The alarm in his widened eyes at the state of your runny nose, and tear-stained cheeks made him instinctively reach out to wipe your tears away, but you pushed that familiar, loving hand away. “M-mi corazón?”

Instead of answering as you usually would, you pulled out the well-loved copy of Persuasion from behind a pillow, took a deep breath and dropped it on his lap. “I found it while I was looking for something to read.”

“Oh geez.”

“And can you believe I found more than I bargained for.”

You two sat in silence for what felt like hours as he stared at it, and when he gathered the courage to look inside, the lines about his brow and mouth deepened; another sign that it was true. When he finally interrupted the silence, he confessed regretfully. “I-I was going to tell you.”

“But you didn't. There's a lot of things that I understand are none of my business, but this….I think is a good time to know. If you care about me at all, then read what you wrote.”

“But it's - it's not what you think.”

“Then there's nothing be afraid of. Go on then, read it.”

Visibly swallowing, his shaky hands held it open and he stuttered. “I-I-I thought of you today as I left th-the milky way, on my way t-to a classified location. I-I wish you were here so I could show you the beauty that exists across the universe, but knowing our limitations I can only send you this wonderful novel that I found when I was exploring a-a bookstore located on one of Saturn's moons. I-I know it can be hard to believe that Miss Jane Austen's works can reach the furthest depths of-of space, but that can be blamed on a certain Gallifreyan and his little blue box. I can't wait to hear what y-y-you think of it. Till next time my dear. With love, from Rick.”

“Don't forget the photos.”

Setting down the book, he glanced at the discarded photos, sagging a little after each one, gauging your reaction after he finished studying them. Rick was a smart man, he knew well enough that he messed up and how compromising those photos were. “It's not - I was only writing as ugh - as a friend.” He began, wringing his hands as he went on. “Y-y-y-y-you know I don't have that many.”

Which was true. “Really? So what did she do for you? Was she special?”

“She - she made me a little less lonely. That in itself was something I w-was grateful for.”

Your nails bit into your palms and that ever familiar ache bloomed across your chest; his answer birthing more questions than you were willing to ask. He offered you a Werther's original to placate you which you accepted; it's wrapper similar to the one in the painting. As ever he waited for you to answer, and the longer he waited, the more he sagged; his eyes pleading, hoping, wishing that he could know whatever hurt clouded your heart and wanted to fix it. “I want to believe you, I really do,” you admitted, which made him hopeful, though only for you to crush it with this. “but I'm tired of walking on eggshells. Tell me, what did you want from me when you had someone like her? Seems as though she was a good match for you. She was a creative who could paint, loved flowers, and butterflies among other things I imagine.”

“Sh-she did.”

You bit the inside of your cheek in an attempt to hold back the surge of feelings which were a result of his sincerity. Damn it. You could do this……possibly. “See?” you said cooly, focusing your gaze on your naked feet. “I knew she was special considering you sent her a book that had belonged to the Doctor. She also knew about your travels, which meant you trusted her and you hardly trust anyone. The point I'm getting at is that I want to know what I am to you. So, am I a knockoff or a rebound? Because we both know there's nothing like the real thing.”

“N-n-no, not at all. You mean th-the world to me and I-I love you. I have only loved you. ”

“But she loved you, didn't she? And you loved her. I can't ignore that. If she's anything like me, then what are we doing together Ricardo? Why aren't you with her? I…. I thought we understood each other but then I found proof that I was only second best. I can't do it, I can't compete with a shadow, and I'm not going to try. I don't have it in me.”

“I-I-I-I never expected you to. Por favor mi amor de m-mi vida, if you'll let me explain, I'll tell you whatever you want. I - I don't want to lose you. Please, honest t-t-to God, I don't. I can't.”

“Hmm, I didn't know you were a praying man.”

“When you're about t-t-to lose your universe, I don't think there are th-that many options. I can't - oh please I can't lose you. Not again.”

You felt your resolve breaking. You wanted to fall into his arms and melt into the comfort of them; for you both to comfort each other and let it all go because it probably was just a big misunderstanding; him being the best thing that ever happened to you, but not yet. Maybe he was a praying man after all, and if God was merciful, then why wouldn't you be? Rick certainly would. For Zeta-7, you could be. He'd definitely given you enough chances.

“Fine.” you decided, helping him up as you stood, but through this brief touch he almost misunderstood, thinking that the worst was over and gave your hand a squeeze; his warm smile weakening your resolve even further. Maybe Ricks were masters at mind games after all. And you knew it wouldn't take much for him to make you forget how unhappy you were, and like magic, show you something wonderful and dazzling, but you didn't want to be charmed; you wanted the truth. You bit the flesh inside of your cheeks hard enough for you to bleed, and despite relishing the warmth which permeated your chilled hands, you let go. “I'm……I'm not over it yet.”


	4. The Multiple Faces Of Love

He followed you out of the basement, easily avoiding the stack of books you had piled up on one of the steps which were the ones you planned on reading later, and continued straight towards the living room; setting the photographs down on the coffee table next to the stack of sci-fi magazines; stirring the fragrance of pine cone potpourri and that of your shampoo as you pushed your hair away from your face as you proceeded to sit on the right side of the couch. “Sit.” you commanded.

So he did, leaving an appropriate distance between the two of you; there might as well have been a sea. It was funny really, to sit as though you two were strangers; not humorous as you wished it could've been but different because back at the beginning, when you two had been just friends, he'd glance at you and items about the room as he was doing now; nervous as to whichever words might be misconstrued by his natural impediments, hoping with all his might you wouldn't dislike him; you didn't and you doubted you ever could. In his overly conscious, anxious state, he appeared smaller, frailer, but he was stronger than he knew; at least to have made it this far in life and therefore he would not die but relive and reminisce. Though, nonetheless, the plainest way to say it was that he was nervous or possibly brave; to whichever it had been was up for him to decide. In truth, he was brave in all things that he'd done, and you admired him for it, but that probably meant he was always afraid and that was no way to live; anxiety can't save a life but alter the perception of it and you knew it well; intimately in fact.

To prolong to the inevitable you switched your focus towards the front door where the afternoon light filtered through its stained glass; its design that of a veiled woman with her palms raised as petals rained over her. How beautiful. Everything in this place was in connection with him and seemed to hold some deeper meaning; a history you knew only the fringes of. This thought reiterated the point of how much you knew about him. You knew that he was only one of a myriad of Ricks; that his favorite dessert was ovenless brownies despite his astonishing baking skills; that gardening is an excellent outlet which refreshes and heals him on his roughest days; and that you loved him despite it all. Only, history had added a bump in the road which couldn't be avoided and well…you couldn't hope to win. How could you compete with history?

Nonetheless, your initial hurt and thoughts had had time to cool down a bit more, but the knowledge of that woman's mysterious presence and Zeta-7's admittance of a relationship beyond acquaintance had left you more numb than angry. Yet, who were you to blame him for wanting to fill the void? He had been lonely, and for you to assume that the worst was that she was his potential lover instead of considering her contributions to his well being hadn't been that mature on your part. Hmm, you sincerely hoped he'd tell you what you needed to hear and above all things the truth. “Those paintings over there,” you pointed out, “those were done by her too. Right? The painting style is similar to that of the portrait.”

Woken from his own ruminations, he answered. “Th-that's right.”

“I see. They probably didn't take as long as the portrait to paint. Right? Must be an interesting process.”

This he didn't answer, but his eyes followed your every movement. Not knowing what to do with his hands, he rested them on his knees as he listened; you for your part trying to ignore the natural urge to reach for them. And with care, you shuffled through the stack of magazines, until you found the funeral home pamphlet which made him tense up. Seems as though there had been a great significance to it after all. Handing it to him, you said cooly. “Why don't you start explaining. After you collected your thoughts of course.”

He looked through the photos which had been found in the book earlier again and looked about the room, at the paintings and portrait before his piercing gaze settled on you; how those eyes could pierce even the marrow of your bones. “I'm s-s-sorry about how sudden all this is.” Chewing on his bottom lip, he took a deep breath, then let it go. He continued. “I know you're not t-t-too happy with me and think that I - that I'm pining over an old flame. That certainly isn't the case, but it - it must've been unsettling. I-I know how I'd feel if it were me. Well, when I met Lawrence I-I-I wasn't too pleased, but this - I-I-I should've told you all about this a long time ago.”

“I agree. Go on.”

With a sigh, he nodded in agreement, left for a moment, and then returned with butterbot; you didn't even know Rick packed him. He set him on top of a stack of books and pointed the lens towards the ceiling. After removing butterbots exterior casing, and switching around a couple of the wires, he replaced the casting. Switching him back on, Zeta-7 then pulled up a squiggly map on his phone and projected it into the room; an Interdimensional map. “You're a lot like her in more ways than y-you might think.”

“I know that much.”

“Really? Well, then y-you might not be all that surprised. Remember when you read m-my journal?”

“What? How did….you knew?”

“Y-yeah.”

“But you never said anything.”

“I-I figured you had your reasons, and I knew you wouldn't tell anyone. Though, I wish y-y-you would've confronted me about it. We could've had this conversation a-a long time ago.”

You didn't detect any accusatory tones in his voice. If he'd been bothered, then he must've long since gotten over it. That in itself would also explain his behavior that evening when he questioned what you'd do he was gone for days, weeks, or years. And you knew you'd wait, and thinking of it now, he'd waiting plenty for you. You sure hoped by the end of all this explanation, that everything is OK. “You're right and I'm sorry. However, now is a good time as any. Isn't it?”

“I-I suppose it is, but first I-I want to show you something.” 

Twisting a dial on his watch, he activated the disguise mechanism; which had been to this point used mostly for his missions. You'd seen it in action once when the two of you visited Gazorpazorp and were in need of a few parts for a device and had to deal with Ma-Sha and her fashion police. Though, what he did this time was different. Instead of switching the appearance of his gender, he touched the watch face in a rhythmic pattern and you saw the years melt as he took on the form of his early days; back to when he was forty years old. “I-I-I think this will give you a better idea of the story from my p-perspective.”

As though the air had been stolen from your lungs, you struggled to remain composed. Rick had been…he had been as you expected he would've been; handsome, softer, smoother, his voice lighter, his hair brighter, and as ever his countenance inviting; his eyes the only thing remaining unchanged. Why did he have to do this now? Especially when you already had a hard enough time trying to resist him? Oh, that just wasn't fair. Yet, when you could speak, you cleared your throat and commented simply. “So this is what she saw. No wonder.”

Rubbing his arm, he wondered. “Wh-what?” 

“Hmm, it's no wonder that you were an object of someone's affections. Have you really had a good look at yourself? I'd feel inclined to love you if I was met with an honest face like this and didn't know you. Though,” you paused, giving yourself a moment to become rational and to push back your sentimentality before you continued. “why don't you go on with your story.”

“Right, I-I-I should um… alright. As y-y-you already know, I went on a mission. It all happened thirty years ago right there,” he pointed towards a maroon blob. “in that dimension highlighted by the floating Rick head. It - I can't tell you the exact details of the case, but I can tell you why my popularity sunk and why it n-never got better.”

With the way he spoke in his usual manner, you felt less and less upset. He certainly had a talent in making others feel comfortable. Though, how did popularity play into this story? You wondered. “What are you talking about?”

“I know it doesn't sound relevant, but it - it is. I promise. We ugh - me and the other Ricks, we'd all used to get together after work and share a couple of beers and have snacks and stuff. I was never much of a-a drinker, but I enjoyed the association. Anyway, there was a Rick who had a-a little too much to drink one evening,” Clenching his fists, he closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. Then letting it go, he reopened his eyes, and grabbed a pillow to squeeze; pained to admit. “and in private he um - he confessed t-to wanting to - he wanted to be intimate with me. It's not as uncommon as you'd think, but I-I never liked Ricks that way, and I'm still a ugh - you know and because of th-that and my personal preferences I politely declined and avoided his advances. It wasn't long after that he'd spread th-those rumors a-about me which caught on like wildfire. I guess the rumors now are better th-than the original, but it's all about the same.”

The rumor which branched out and had been the basis of many other horrible rumors which could've essentially ruined his life. Your heart ached for him and forgetting your anger, you slid over the wide space between you two. Moving the pillow away from his grasp, you pulled him into an embrace. You didn't know if this was the best way to handle the situation, but there was no way you were going to let your man hurt more then he had to. Rubbing his back in soothing circles, you said in soothing tones. “Oh, my dear sweet man. Why didn't you tell everyone it was a lie?”

Pulling you closer, holding you so tight, you thought you'd meld into him, he sniffled. “Who would've b-believed me? He was my superior, and no one wouldn't have thought of it. I'm not - I'm not very attractive, and there were many other Ricks who were interested in him at th-the time. Why would he have wanted me?”

Pulling back, despite the grip he had on you, you decided that this was how the rest of the conversation would go; him in want of comfort and you in want of truth and of him. “Because you're a wonderful human being. I mean, looking at you now, I can see how precious you are. Who could resist you?”

Touching your forehead with his, he answered. “I-I don't know. I'm glad y-you think so and that you still want me.”

“Just because I get mad doesn't mean that I hate you. However, I still expect you to go on with the story. Please.”

Loosening his grip, he studied you, relieved that he had gained your favor again, and went on with his tale. “I-I decided to run errands for everyone which usually consisted of buying beer and snacks in order to avoid him. I-I-I didn't like it, but I did it to feel safe. And one afternoon, after I bought some more snacks and was on my way back, I decided t-t-to walk through a neighborhood that reminded me of home. I wasn't really paying attention, thinking about what was waiting for me, but a voice called out to me; a little girl who was about six or seven who had been playing in her father's garden. She asked me why I was so sad. That's just like kids you know? They are really perceptive. I asked her why she thought so, and she said….”

You touched his arm, as though it were all coming back to you now. She said, ‘I can feel your sadness, and it hurts me too.’”

“That's right.” he softened, taking your hand and squeezing it. “Though, at her age, you said to me. ‘I can feel your sadness, so you better stop that mister.’ You were quite a-a spirited, sassy child, though I-I guess you got that from your father's side. He was a-a great guy, with a really deep understanding of caring for roses and who loved his daughter very much.”

Again, you didn't understand where his story was going, but you had a feeling. “My dad adored roses. I didn't realize that you knew him.”

Absentmindedly rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb, he admitted. “W-we used to share plant care tips with one another. He knew how much I adored his hybrid blooms and you enjoyed them too. You'd spend hours just watching him and helping him. And just like him, y-y-you were generous and I assume that's why you had given me a rose because th-they were very special to you and you wanted me to have something to smile about. I ugh - I never forgot that.”

“Rick, was that other girl…. was that me?”

Straightforwardly, he answered. “A-a version of you? Yes, she was.”


	5. To Forgive Yourself And To Carry On

On your left hand was a scar. There wasn't much of a story or a history to accompany this scar except for the memory of how you got it; burning yourself while taking the cookies out of the oven. And now, as you were processing the information Zeta-7 had given you, you found yourself staring at it as though it were meaningful and would somehow reveal its secrets or hidden truths. It wasn't even fascinating but was there just like how the truth was.

You had always had a feeling; a sense of familiarity about the whole affair. From the time you had met him, he was continually surprised by your reactions, thoughts, and feelings. Whether you were being compared to an earlier, sweeter, hotter version of yourself was still unknown; perhaps unconsciously, but Zeta-7 was not so unkind as to do so readily. Oh, but all this time, after all these years the girl of his past, the other woman, had been you? How ironic.

Rick studied you, curious as to how it'd affect you; you were affected, but oddly enough you were also relieved. Was that narcissistic of you? Who knows. If the Citadel of Rick's had taught you anything, it was to not think about it; not that hard at least. For the most part, you were relieved because it hadn't been this super, amazeballs lady who could speak twelve languages, cook gourmet food, or looked like a supermodel, but was a normal human being. Though, you weren't sure if you were all caught up yet. “Rick, how is that possible? I thought you didn't mess with time travel?”

“I-I don't. In her dimension, time passed differently. A day here was ten years in-in hers. I didn't understand that right away until I went back home after my assignment was over, and went back the next day to th-thank her. I almost didn't recognize her, but she explained how sh-she saw me ten years ago and had wondered what I've been up to during that span of-of years. Of course, it took a bit of explaining, but she believed me. After all,” he smiled with a nostalgic fondness which could almost be called familial. “I was her imaginary friend, or so she had thought until I-I-I showed up.”

How sweet. You could only imagine how things were before he appeared again; bringing a lovely, sweet breeze into her life. Grade school, middle school, and still in high school; chicken pox, bug bites, and several seasons of her father's blooms; skinned knees, silly crushes, and a head full of dreams; starlight, moonlight, and sunbeams. If she was as much like you as you were like her, then he was always there; in the back of her mind; waiting for him to appear; just like magic.

Lifting his hand so that you could press upon it a soft kiss, you said wistfully. “Must've been a dream come true,” you softened. “seeing your handsome face again. How did it go?”

“She um - she invited me in for tea and cookies, and her father greeted me at th-the door.”

“Oh goodness, were you scared?”

He scratched the back of his neck, laughing in his usual sheepish way which made his already lovely face twice as welcoming and deserving of at least a dozen kisses; maybe more. “Hohoho, I think he - he was more relieved to know that I was a-a real person. That day, gosh, we talked about everything and I - we had a lot in common.”

“With her?”

 “With th-the both of them. I wish I could've stayed because they made me feel at home, but I had t-to go.”

“As you always do, because that's how it is.”

“That's right,” he admitted sadly, “but I promised I'd come back and visit them as soon as I - as I could.”

Which he meant because he always meant it and kept his word; as to when was another story. “Going back two days later meant it had been twenty years for her. That's a long time.”

At this, he squeezed your hand, understanding the implications of that. “The older I get,” he admitted, “the more it seems it - it wasn't that long, but I know it had been. By then, she was a-about my age and we spent the day catching up.”

“Doing what?”

“Gosh, we-we looked over photos, talked, ate, and even watched her independent film sh-she made during her college years.”

Well, that was different. For your part, you didn't go to college, but instead lived at home and worked on your first novel; it wasn't that good. And you had to take care of your dad because he began to show the first signs of illness; at the time not knowing he been ill for as long as you'd been alive. “Did you like the movie?”

“It ugh - it was fascinating. I mean, I-I didn't understand the use of hockey sticks and fiddle leaves, but I enjoyed all th-the singing parts. Anyway, later in - in the evening, after her father had gone t-t-to bed, we stayed up talking and joking around on the back porch. Th-the night blooming jasmine was almost too overwhelming, and but I forgot all that because I enjoyed her company. She was brilliant, sweet, and a wonderful conversationalist.”

“Oh, I see.”

Even if it was another version of yourself, you were still slightly jealous. Sensing your disappointment, he pressed a warm kiss on your temple, lingering a little longer than he tended to do. “M-mi corazón, she wasn't clever like - like you, but at the time I didn't know that. We didn't have the kind of conversations that you and I have. With you, I-I can be a scientist as well as a-a man who cares for you. With her, I couldn't talk about my profession or m-my experiments in length because of how classified it - it was, though we talked about other things. Y-you, see, even before my reputation was tarnished, I wasn't that popular w-with women. I didn't know what they wanted.”

Funny enough, this was mostly true, but not completely; him being an oblivious sweet bean while you were conscious of the ladies who may or may not be your rivals in the war of love. You remembered how the ladies at RickCon waved at him and were curious as to how nice he was; Zeta-7 was one of the rare few; a good Rick and how embarrassing it had been when you were met with certain kinds of questions and comments. You specifically remembered two women, the bartender and Tailor Ricks assistant who you two kept running into that day, but they were as sweet as could be, and you were glad you guys still kept in touch. Though, if you didn't include the select few that recognized his winsome qualities, and only considered the other version of you, you were glad she was sensible enough to fall for him and not for an abusive version of him, because Zeta-7 would've treated her right; for her part, she most likely loved him for the same reasons you did. “I think it's the opposite Rick. I think you attracted certain kinds of women. You just….you were careful,” As well as shy, but you believed that had to do with his upbringing. You continued. “because people had hurt you before and being as sensitive as you are, you treat people as they should.”

“I-I suppose so. Gosh, I-I-I didn't go on dates or pursue any romantic relationships at the time anyway; I was busy. That and th-the right woman hadn't come along yet.”

“I don't know what everyone wants in a partner, but you're my type and you were her type as well. She loved you very much, but you didn't like her?”

“Huh? N-not exactly. You see, it - it came as a shock t-t-to me because no one had ever um - ever felt that way for me. At least t-t-t-t-to my knowledge, but nonetheless, she told me so th-that very evening. I barely knew her, but it was endearing. I'm not going t-t-to lie and say I wasn't interested, because honestly if I lived in that dimension, and didn't travel from dimension to dimension, I think I could have, in time, I probably w-would have come to care for her, but I-I didn't. Though, since I couldn't respond t-to her feelings, and she understood and took into consideration how it probably wouldn't have worked since we had different lives, she chose to remain my friend.”

Another difference between you and her is that you weren't sure you could be just as forgiving. From the start, you had been the first to admit your feelings and Zeta-7s confession had soon followed, but if you were rejected you might've not been friends anymore or anything; that or you two would've needed some time before you two could have settled back into a routine. You…..you had a hard time letting things go especially if they mattered; for every cell in his body was of great importance to you like the air you breathed, the water in the sea, the stars, the trees; as strong as death was your attachment; your life enriched and gilded by his very existence. Who could ever forget him? You bet she never did. “How long after that did you see her?”

“Four days passed so quickly. I-I-I got caught up with paperwork and typing reports, and by the time it - it was over,” he paused, reluctant to go on, but after a moment he continued. “I realized what I had done and rushed over. By then, she was all a-alone. Her father had long since passed and she lived alone except for her cat, and many houseplants. I-I realized then the impact us Ricks have in people's lives isn't - they can be detrimental. Stepping in and out of-of the picture, assuming we can pick up where w-we left off. It - people don't work that way, the universe and many of its sentient creatures certainly don't. However, after forty years, sh-she had taken up many hobbies, gone on her own adventures within the limitations an average human existence could allow, and she lived. Her father's life insurance had left her well off, and because sh-she never got married, she wasn't tied down to anything or anyone, but after the traveling she had done in her forties and fifties, she decided to slow down and explore her passions. Can you guess what th-they were?”

You pointed at the paintings and photographs, and he nodded, a smile warming his demeanor. “She would've loved you m-mi corazón because just like you she enjoyed photography. Hohoho, she treated her camera like a baby. Every day, she took photos of her favorite things. Sh-she used to say that she didn't want to forget what she loved most in the world. And if she was having a-a good day she'd paint. Actually, now th-that I think about it, she was the one who taught me how t-t-to express myself on a canvas. I already knew how to paint, but I um - I used to repress myself a ugh - a lot more.”

“I know dear, I know. Rick,” you softened. “before you go on I wanted to say I'm so sorry I jumped to conclusions.”

“It's OK. You didn't know.”

“But I invaded your privacy, and that wasn't fair. I was jealous because I thought you…that you only loved me because you didn't have a chance with her, but that wasn't the case. Who would've thought that I - well not specifically me, but someone like me was there for you, to appreciate all the wonderful qualities that make you priceless to me.”

“You were jealous?”

“Yeah,” you confessed, now comfortable enough to admit how silly you had been. “because I thought you loved her and was only using me as a substitute. I know that's not true now, but I thought you didn't love me. I was afraid it that what we had wasn't true.”

Enveloping you in his warm, loving embrace, he rubbed your back in soothing circles as he wondered. “Princess, is it because y-you love me and didn't want to lose me? Is that true? Can it - it be true that y-y-y-y-you really love me?’

“Mhm.”

“Gosh,” he sniffled, holding you a fraction tighter, his voice hopeful. “it is true? ¿El día q-que me quieras finalmente ha llegado?”

You could only giggle in relief, hiding your face in the softness of his sweater, soothed by a heart so earnest, you thought you'd begin to cry. “My dear Zeta,” you said in your girlish voice. “that day had come a long time ago, but I'm glad you finally understand, because it had always been true. I love you.”


	6. Live and Let Die

_You had never been one to count your steps unless you went up a staircase, but you would skip about if crossing a crosswalk; avoiding nonexistent lava as you landed on the white stripes. From your home to the nearest store was a fifteen-minute walk, and it would be ten on a good day. You had forgotten to pick up paper plates but decided to get them next time as you were consumed and distracted by daydreams. Oh, silly daydreams were supposed to be saved until you weren't busy, but you dreamed on anyway._

_Cars passing and open garages, they were a dime a dozen. You paid little to no mind to the people who walked about; unconcerned by their opinions and rare witticisms. Cracks in a sidewalk should've been avoided, but they weren't; etching into the concrete indiscriminate patterns with no purpose but added character to the walkway of your youth. Tripping, falling, dropping your groceries hadn't been your plan and smashing your Doritos hadn't necessarily been the worst disaster, but the random thought of not having your father around to console as well as scold you because of whatever injuries that were the consequence of carelessness were. Pushing yourself up to sit once the initial shock passed, you saw the figure drop what he'd been holding and ran across the street. It hadn't been a particularly windy day, but his white lab coat fluttered as he dashed past cars with a dexterity one could expect from a seasoned athlete._

_His soft voice disrupted the cloud of thoughts which come about when one is confused and was met with a sense of deja vu. Being assisted by this tall, lanky man with a bowl cut and whose body blocked the sun was only the start; strings and pathways connecting to the rhythm of beating hearts, lithe breezes, wistful longing for yesterdays. With a strength you could've never expected from a man his age, he helped you stand to your full height. You weren't afraid, but while there were allowances for discomfort, you didn't feel as such. There was no telling what he was thinking as he studied you as though he had been reacquainted with something he held dear; the clarity of his electric blues having distracted you for the briefest of moments until he realized he had to let go; breaking the new daydream._

You didn't know then that you'd be here, with him, combing his soft hair with your fingers as he kissed you softly, slowly, confident now in the fact that you had been his from the start. Though, if you had told yourself that day that he'd be yours, that before your birth he had known you, a different you, then you might've laughed and called yourself a dreamer. Really, it all just happened and you went along with it; unraveling the puzzle as your relationship with him found new endearments as existing ones deepened; growing as a person, and realizing dreams could become reality. Though, if you had known that he had been as lonely as you had been, would it had made a difference? Perhaps it would've in its own right.

Though, whether it had been serendipitous, or if he had always known it, to you it had always been a happy coincidence; your meeting; the start, even though it had begun long before you knew it; whatever you wanted to call it. And as the story goes, you were, and still are a young woman from a town of no consequence, with a limited range of skills, who came to know a mad a scientist who also happened to be your neighbor; one who was well acquainted with a portion of the universe; his playground; the stars his friends and the planets his brothers, sisters, and cousins. True, you weren't the chosen one or the hero, and you certainly hoped you weren't the damsel in distress, repeating the same old story of how you were extraordinarily human instead; having worked with what had been dealt and how you barely became worthy enough to become one of the main characters in this film you called life. Except, this wasn't the introduction to a film you paid twelve dollars to see, but the ongoing storyline of two people in different seasons of their lives telling a story about who know who’s and you know what's which will most likely have the obligatory happy ending if you were fortunate; that was left to be determined. And if you did and said the right things, maybe you would be there for whatever comes after.

However, real life wasn't like the movies; probably was a good thing. There was no big fight with two people giving each other the silent treatment, items weren't thrown about, and there certainly wasn't any hair pulling makeout session; much to your disappointment. Okay, not really, at least not by that much, but instead there was acceptance, relief, and closure. Not complete closure, but you guys were getting to that part.

Rick pulled back, much to your disappointment, but you'd be damned if you didn't spot a smirk; must've been the Rick in him. “I'm s-s-sorry. I know I'm supposed to be explaining a-a story right now, but I-I was so happy and I got distracted, but it's - when you said that you...” He faltered, afraid that he could've been mistaken.

Pressing a kiss on his cheek, you softened. “Yes cutie, I said it. You better not melt on me now.” Resting your head on his shoulder, his earnest heart could be heard beating a mile a minute; it was endearing. “Tell me Ricky, what is it that you're feeling?”

“I’m happy.” he confessed incredulously. “Gosh, I hope what I'm about t-t-to say makes sense, and it um - it's going t-t-to sound silly, but I thought I was the only one. I thought you-you could never really love me.”

“Funny how history repeats itself huh? I mean, what did you think when I used to flirt with you? When I was being so friendly, that I was joking?”

“Yeah.”

“Rick, you're seriously the cutest creature in the universe,” you giggled, pulling him for another quick kiss, feeling him smile against your lips. When you pulled away, you teased, “but this isn't the time to get distracted. You flirt,” giving him a playful shove that made him blush but smile warmly nonetheless. “we can continue this sweet little exchange later. Okay? Though, you better be ready for all my kisses and love. Alright? Or else you're in trouble mister.”

Scratching the back of his neck, he glanced at your lips then chuckled nervously when you caught him. “I-I-I think that could work. If y-y-y-y-you want to of-of course.”

It's funny how little it took to make him happy and how easily he could alternate in between this happy but sheepish state. Made you wonder how things would've been if he understood how much you loved him sooner. Well, you two might've had a family by now if he hadn't been so afraid, but he was your sweet honey baby nonetheless. “Hmm, I like the sound of that.”

* * *

If you could read minds, maybe this would've been easier. You didn't want to lessen the importance of her, but you also weren't in the mood to elevate her status higher than what it already was. She was part of his history, but as you had come to realize, it seemed as though she was a better person then you were. At least she wasn't the jealous type. “Hmm, painted what she liked didn't she?” you commented with repressed sarcasm. “It makes sense. That's what I would've done. Did she paint a lot?”

With a far away, distracted, pensive look of remembrance, he answered. “Yeah.”

Pointing towards the art room, he added. “Some of her works are in m-my house, but all her unfinished works are in th-that room. I didn't know what to do with them, but I - I hope to shrink them all and add them to my miniatures collection someday.”

Miniatures huh? That was too cute. You were familiar with his shrink ray and there was a Victorian dollhouse in the corner of his bedroom, but you never got around to asking about it. Was it full of miniatures? Well duh. Though as to the kind of stuff, now that was something to ruminate another day. Currently, you were more curious as to their activities with one another. “Did you guys go on adventures?”

“Not physically.” he confessed. “It - it was difficult because of her various ailments, but I took her wherever she wanted in her home dimension, and sometimes sh-she'd paint what she remembered.”

Oh dear, that wasn't good. “I bet she enjoyed it. What was her favorite place?”

“Her home because that was where her memories were. And wherever I was, because as she used t-t-to say, I was all around her.”

“You know what, it's true.”

You understood the sentiment. Whether it was in his home, in the places he had been, or in the brief moments you two spent together, his presence was all around you; like a modern fairytale or story that would soon be forgotten. It wasn't a haunting presence, but a great calm which lingered in the halls. Getting to know yourself from someone's else's perspective was both a frustrating and humbling experience. Lost passions, reverent joy, regret, acceptance, and growth; days past making themselves known in the nuances of his voice, in the quivering of his bottom lip and in the unshed tears which had been repressed for so long, they translated into an aching melancholy. There had been long stretches of sadness, intermingled with that of deep-seated gladness, and while you knew he was trying to be both brief but explanatory enough so that you could understand the weighty consequences of his choices, you knew there was no way he could tell you word by word of exactly how those days had been, but from what you had read and heard, you discerned this much so far.

You two had met in a different time, in a different life. No, this wasn't reincarnation, but what he called a future dimension. In a dimension very much like yours, had lived a Rick, who was the typical Rick, who had for one reason or another died; natural, accidentally or purposeful, had nonetheless died. A group of Rick's were sent to investigate the case, which included Zeta-7. Having rejected and avoided the advances of one his superiors, he kept busy by going on snack runs and had seen the other you in a garden with your father, who at the time was pruning the roses. From there, and with every meeting their general fondness grew, and they clicked. However, in that dimension time passed differently; a day in his dimension was ten in hers. So he'd visit every chance he had and had gotten to know that version of you in various stages of her lifetime. How bittersweet.

* * *

Now, you wondered how it had been in her December years. From what you had read, he stayed with her for the rest of her life. Rick was normally a busy man, though to find the time to be a carer, the most logical answer to you was that he felt in some way responsible and possibly guilty. He had stepped into her life, and instead of doing what anyone else, or what any Rick would've done which was to not think about it, he felt indebted to her kindness and returned; forming a friendship and bond that lasted for a lifetime.

You stood and walked over to where his portrait hung. Again, there was no way you yourself could've done it, but if you had decades of practice, maybe, just maybe you could. “So, this piece, was it her Magnum Opus?”

Much to your surprise, he chuckled. “Hohoho, no it wasn't. There was another portrait she did of her father which reflected every once of warmth and love that a person could feel, and it - it felt as though you could touch him, as though he'd jump out and joke about how I should stay away from his roses. Though,” he softened, coming to join you, and hugging you from behind. “she used to tell me that I was her treasure. It - it didn't feel that way sometimes, especially when she called me by the cat's name instead of my own, but I-I knew what she meant.”

“I wish I could see it. The painting I mean.”

“Gosh, I wish I could've shown you th-the original, but it - she wanted t-to be buried with it. I do have a photograph, but it's in an album back home. I'll be sure to show it to you once w-we get back.”

“Rick, how come you don't display this in your home? It makes quite a statement.”

He was quiet for a while, and you leaned into him, waiting for when he'd answer. Usually, when he did this, it was because he was searching for the most precise and to the point response. Though, he only did that when he didn't want to admit the full truth; which in itself might've birthed new questions to which he wasn't ready to give the answers to. When he spoke up, his voice was colored with a sense of defeat. “Because I-I don't look that way anymore. I mean, I-I-I think it's fantastic, and she did a marvelous job, but I was afraid you'd be unsatisfied with how I look currently.”

Resting your hands atop his, you confessed. “Looks never had anything to do with it. However,” you reminisced, thinking back to that fateful day. “I do remember how captivating your eyes were. I never had anyone look at me with such intensity before then, and maybe that's just it. I didn't know you, and you sort of knew me, but I wasn't repelled but caught off guard. There's the allure of first impressions, and you certainly did. Perhaps all Ricks do, but you my dear, you didn't want to let go. What was that about?”

“Gosh,” he sighed. “I-I-I can't believe I did that. It was just, y-you were there, right in front of me. I had waited so long and I-I-I had - I didn't want to offend you, but I couldn't help myself. I only wanted to help and you looked very pretty th-that day.”

“Aww, that's so sweet. You were helpful, in more ways than you could ever know.”

Pressing a kiss on your temple, he wondered. “You were a-a tough cookie, even though you scraped your knee really bad.”

“I'm glad you thought so, but I really wanted to cry. Though your smiles were infectious, and you made me forget why I was feeling so bad. I needed you back then, and I still do, but not for the same reasons.”

“What do y-you mean?”

“To me, you're synonymous with comfort, and the more I learned about you, the more endearing you were to me. I was doing okay, but I was lonely. It's pathetic, but I didn't really have that many friends, and my family is scattered. I would rarely leave my house, but I feel as though you helped me come out of my shell. You helped me grow, and I love you for that. Now, whenever I do see you, I see my best friend, my boyfriend, the light of my life. I like the way you look, and I don't think too hard as to how old you are. And before you go into how your eyes don't line up, I know well enough that it's just a lazy eye. I used to have one, though I got it corrected.”

“I-I didn't know that.”

“Well, now you do. Maybe, just like me, you were a light in her life and that's one of the many reasons she painted this. It catches your very essence, and in a way, it's timeless. I'd know it's you anywhere because the one thing about you that never changes is your eyes. I believe if you weren't busy and I saw you every day then my days would only get better. You're a positive influence, breathing life wherever you go, but I could never ask that of you. I know how important your work is and we both have our days when we need to give each other space. Though, it's nice to think about. I love the idea of us being more domestic.”

“I-I think about that too. Should - what if,” he whispered. “if my face was th-the first thing you saw every morning? How would y-y-y-y-you feel?”

Hmm, now that was a good question. It warmed your heart when he opened up a little and tried to show you what it was he meant to say. Little by little, you hoped that by answering accordingly, he'd gain the confidence he needed for him to take the leap. For your part, you owed him a good answer because it would've been so simple to laugh it off with a suggestive comeback, but this wasn't the time for it. Maybe later. “Then I'd be fortunate, wouldn't I?” Turning around to face him, you reached up to wipe away the stray tears which began to fall. “To be able to see you before anyone else would be one way of starting my day right. If I could, I'd wake you up with sleepy kisses, and unfortunately the dreaded morning breath. Though you'd be so sweet and tolerate it, but I'd probably make things worse by farting. Sorry if that killed your romantic daydream, but I think that gives you an idea. As embarrassing as it might be.”

Looking at you in that funny way as he does from time to time, chuckling despite the tears which kept on falling, he said in a voice colored with warmth. “It sure does. I think I-I could deal with it. Besides, I ugh - I-I fart too. You'd have t-to deal with that.”

“I would, but I appreciate how you try to be discreet. If that isn't romance then I don't know what is.”

“You know, she ugh - I-I-I don't think she would've even said that word. Stuff like that disgusted her. It's a-a good thing I didn't take her on adventures either now that I think about it, or else she might've been nauseated by something as simple as a Garblovian. Their speech patterns tend t-t-to be nasally and guttural.”

“Are you serious? Now that's silly. Garblovians are such hard workers despite their cannibalistic ways, or how they tend to explode. If you can't keep it real then what's the point? Though, that's my opinion. Anyway, changing the subject, how did you feel about this piece when you saw it?”

The lines about his mouth deepened. “I didn't even know she painted it until after she…after she passed. I found it wrapped up, hidden under her bed. That was where she hid things sh-she didn't want me to see.”

“So the pamphlet….oh Rick.”

Placing a lock of hair behind your ear, he confessed. “We only had a couple of months together, but I learned s-so much. She taught me to appreciate the little things, like the earth, family, and all that matters to us doesn't have to matter to anyone else. She was my best friend, and even until the day she died, she loved me. She said that her only regret was th-that she was so old, much older then a man my age could care for, but I loved her in m-my own way.”

“Were you in love with her?” 

“I-I think everyone in the world would've been if th-they met her, but as for me no. It was strictly platonic.”

“Why?”

“Because mi corazón, I was waiting for the person I'd wait a-a lifetime for. And that person is you.”


	7. But What About The Rest?

You never got a chance to count the rings on the logs which Rick brought in to start a fire, but you knew they were over ten years old. Over that span of years in which that tree had lived, you could say with certainty that they had been the most trying as well as the most joyful. You graduated high school, took care of your sick father, wrote stories upon stories, watched your father die, and continued your existence as though the world were muted but then Rick came into your life and the world was full of color. Had you truly not known him before, or did you and you just didn't remember? At times you could never be sure, and Zeta-7 probably intended it that way, being all ambiguous and mysterious, but his presence held that air of nostalgia like the scent of vanilla.

Though at the moment the place was not full of the scent of vanilla, but of pine; the ones Rick had chopped this morning. Once the wood was arranged the way he liked, he stood back up, and with the skill and precision of a sniper, he used his ray gun, pointed it towards the pile of wood which then bursted into flames at the pull of the trigger; elegant and alluring in an inexplicable, visceral way.

Though, naturally, because he was a darling, sweet, attentive man it was easy to forget that he was this otherworldly mad scientist; a dangerous yet wonderful man with a gadget for every job. Whether he was armed wherever he went, or the ray gun had been hidden in this place, he wouldn't have needed to use it if you hadn't mentioned you were cold; or if he wasn't a Rick. You told him he didn't have to because you could have just used one of his sweaters, but he insisted otherwise; how sweet. The crackle of the fire made you think of those hallmark films they played all winter long, of couples all cozy with their hot cocoa or wine, facing one another in what had been set up to be a romantic scene. Though, Zeta-7 wasn't so much in a romantic mood, but anxious to keep you warm; how endearing. “Rick, the fire should be enough.”

Though Rick wouldn't hear of it. And from a nearby trunk, he retrieved several quilts, picking out the most beautiful to cover you with. After covering you with the third and final quilt, he smiled protectively. “Nonsense, I-I-I wouldn't want you to be cold.”

“I'm not anymore. Thank you Ricky,” you smiled sweetly up at him. “you really are the sweetest. I'm all nice and cozy now, but it looks like all I'm missing is some hot chocolate.”

“Do y-you want me to make some? I can have it ready in a jiffy.”

“Maybe later. Why don't you sit down and relax? Isn't that why we came here? To get away from it all and enjoy nature or something?”

“Yeah.” he nodded.

“Then sit down. Please?”

Doing as you asked, he sat right back down. “Really mi corazón, it's n-no trouble.”

“I know but it'll be more troubling if you treat me like a stranger and don't get your cute butt over here. Come on,” you softened, seeing how he was unsure as to what he should do. “come here and get warm. There's no need to be shy my precious honey man.”

With a sheepish smile, he moved over to your side of the couch and you pulled back the quilts so he could scoot over. “See?” you giggled, covering the both of you and snuggling into his side. “Isn't it nice?”

“Mhm, it's - it's wonderful.”

“Good.”

For a while you two sat in silence and watched the fire, listening to it crackle. Most people you knew didn't have real fireplaces and had replaced theirs with those fake ones, but you liked that Zeta-7 was this kind of guy who held on to what was classic. In itself, a fireplace made a place feel like home. And with him, you always felt that way. Always.

Though, it's funny how easy it was to feel shakened and threatened by just a few words whether written, read, or said, but just as easily be drawn back in; it must be a gift Ricks have. However, from what you had heard today, Zeta-7 had once again proved his sincere affection for you, but something else you had wondered is if he really, truly was the sort of man who could be content with a domestic sort of life and leave his Interdimensional travels behind him? You had never asked, but Rick wasn't so unkind as to not take you into consideration and you didn't see any reason he'd ever have to stop traveling. Well, unless you two really did start a family together; another thing to be determined. While you had been ruminating all this, he must've sensed that you were staring at him, for he glanced down at you with a tired smile, interrupting your thoughts when he asked sweetly. “Something on y-your mind princess?”

“Just thinking is all. I'm sorry you couldn't get to the repairs today.”

“That's not a-a bad thing. I ugh - I'm glad w-we cleared a few things up. Y-y-you mean more to me than those repairs. Still,” he sighed. “I-I-I should've gotten to it months ago. I'm sorry.”

“It's okay, there's always tomorrow.”

“I know, but th-that means we can't explore the town t-tomorrow. It's so nice, and it's full of small mom and pop stores that I know you'd love.”

“There's always the day after that. I mean unless you get the Meeseeks to do it. Wouldn't that be easier?”

“We could,” he sighed. “but at times they tend t-to cause a bit of chaos if they can't fulfill their assigned task. I-I would rather have one or two of them help me if necessary, but only if I-I can't do it all by myself. It's much safer.”

“Oh, ok. Sorry.”

“No, it's alright. I-I appreciate your thoughts on the matter. I um - I like to think of it as a-a family decision. Y-you, don't mind me saying that do you?”

If you could express every reason as to why this man was too adorable for his own good, you'd probably make him cry for a good twenty minutes. “Ricky,” you softened. “I don't mind that at all. Actually, I would love it if you said it more often.”

“Boy, that's - I'm glad. I-I-I don't know why I'm like this, but I always feel like what I'm saying is confusing or doesn't make sense. And yet, I remember what you said not that long ago about how we have each other and it's really gotten me through some rough days. I um - I had thought of you as part of my family the moment we became friends. Well, maybe before that. Do y-y-y-y-you understand what I mean?”

“Mhm, I think so.”

Though, you had a feeling it would be a few years before he stopped overthinking things. And speaking of overthinking, you had a few other thoughts which wouldn't leave your mind. “Rick, I know this is random, but did you repair stuff for her too? And yes, it's because I'm still a little jealous of the idea of her watching you tinkering with things in her house, being all cute and adorable. I mean, you repair whatever's broken in my house, but I never asked if you enjoy it. I sort of assumed you did.”

Now, you could tell he was enjoying this, because when he pressed a kiss on your temple he lingered there, and chuckled against your skin which succeeded in making you giddy. “Aww, y-you're really sweet. Well, there's definitely a-a sense of accomplishment which comes from doing a job well done, especially when it's-it's for the people you care about, but to answer your question, yes I did. I had repaired a-a few things here and there, but she had an independent spirit and usually preferred t-to do things herself if she could.”

Which couldn't have been much, but it was admirable in its own right. “She must've been thankful for what you’d done. Though, that sort of brings up another question. Possibly unrelated, but if she had no family left, who inherited everything?”

“I did.”

“Oh. Where did it all go?”

“I-I shrunk everything I could and divided some items to the ones I'd keep in my home and what I'd keep here. Actually,” he confessed, with a faraway look in his eyes as he stared at his hands. “part of the reason I bought this place was that she had always wanted t-t-to live in a place like this, but never got a chance to. In a way, I wanted to make her dream come true. Is that weird?”

Giving his hand a squeeze, you admitted. “I think it's sweet because you have such a good heart. Though, there must be more than that?”

“Y-you're right. Now, it's really a-a house of dreams because you're here.”

* * *

Stacking up the coasters, you wondered. “Where do I come in your little story?”

Mixing chemicals before you as he'd done many times before, he chuckled. “Hohoho, I'm getting to th-that part princess. After I had finished my business in her dimension, I returned back to mine.”

You watched as the chemical reaction took place, and how rich, decadent brownies rose and were cooked in a matter of seconds. Taking a knife, he cut, then served you a generous portion of the fudgy goodness on a speckled plate before he went back to check on the tea. He continued. “It - it certainly took some time before I-I could call my house a home again. You know th-that saying about home being where the heart is? I-I have never heard a-a truer statement, but just because it was sad, didn't mean I regretted meeting her or th-the experience. I have many happy memories and sh-she prepared my heart in some way. Gosh, I didn't understand it immediately, but in time I did.”

Stirring in honey, he stood there in quiet contemplation for a few moments then went to search for the cups. “After a handful of years had passed, a newlywed couple bought a house down the block. I made them a pie t-to welcome them into the neighborhood, but when I met the owner of the house I froze. It was him, y-y-y-y-your father. He didn't know me yet, but w-we became fast friends and bonded over our love of gardening. After that, well it wasn't that long until you were born and your mother she um - I'm sorry.”

“Don't be sorry. From what I heard, she was a good woman.”

“Y-you inherited her eyes and smile.”

 “I know. That's what my dad used to tell me all the time.”

“Seeing you, I-I felt hopeful because I was looking forward to having you around again, though I had to wait. I saw you a few times over the years, but I-I kept my distance. For reasons.”

Setting the pot of tea next to a plate of ovenless brownies, he studied you, waiting to see what you'd say. You had no point of comparison like he did, and the thought alone seemed heartbreaking. “Reasons huh? Well, how about this; what was so great about me that you fell head over heels and not with her? You explained a little, but not the whole thing.”

With a blush, he settled into his seat, taking your hand as was his habit. “Other Ricks, many Ricks were married. Th-they had Diane and others that weren't married dated a hive mind named Unity, and some they - they focused on science as I-I-I did. In a way, all of us chased our passions. For better or worse, we all were married to science in our hearts, but it - it wasn't enough. It's not necessarily a vague concept, but for anyone to have exactly what they want isn't possible. We work with what we’re given, but many of us fight it as a-a sort of defiance because fate wasn't going to stop us. And I - realistically knew her and I would've had to give up our dreams if we wanted to be together, and I never told her, but at the time it wasn't enough; I wasn't ready. I wanted t-t-to explore the universe, t-to continue on that path until I found what I was looking for or die. To answer your question, I would've had to give up a great part of what gave me a purpose t-t-to be with her, and we both agreed it wouldn't be right.”

“So, any feelings you might've formed, you extinguished them because you had goals. Though where does that leave me? Hate to tell you dear, but it's not always about you. There has to be a little room for me. Right?”

“That's right.” Caressing the back of your hand, he didn't attempt to hide the tears which fell along the sides of his cheek. “I didn't know then, what I know now. I thought I-I could be another Rick who had endless projects, traveled with my band, or go t-t-to work day in and day out, but I was wrong. I-I was alone, and the older I got, the more I w-wanted what most Rick's took for granted; a family.”

You knew that much. You saw it on his face everytime the word came up, and how he interacted with Beth's, Jerry's, Summers, and Morty's; as they were precious. “I think most people want that, but I thought Smith households tended to be dysfunctional. Like dimension C137 for example.”

“True, but not all of them are as dysfunctional as th-they initially appear to be, and from the ones I observed I saw what they had and I wanted that too. And when I found the time, I'd ask your father to tell me how things w-were going, and I would think about what I'd do if I was ever given the opportunity t-to have what he had, because he was happy, but my work didn't give me many allowances and I was afraid to give what I-I knew. Though, I was content enough to dream about it, or so I told myself to take the edge off th-the loneliness. Though I'm never lonely when I'm with you. Now, when it came to you, I-I realized after a few observations that while you two were similar, your personality was different than hers. As the years went by, I became more fascinated by you, and naturally was curious, though I let you be. I guess I-I-I hoped for a serendipitous meeting when you were old enough. I hope y-you understand that I - I wanted your friendship, thinking it would be like the one I had with her, but I wouldn't learn until later that it wouldn't the case.”

“Well, we are still friends. We're best friends. The sweetest, dearest friends that anyone could ever have, except that we love one another. And I don't want to share you. Just thought I'd say that. You can go on.”

“Gee,” he reminisced, his eyes soft and full of adoration. “I remember the day y-you graduated from high school, and how you were swinging around your hat. Y-you seemed relieved and eager to leave, but do you remember how you had accidentally hit someone in th-the face? I understand if you don't because your father had been waiting for you, and I-I was just a nobody.”

That day, all you could think about was how you couldn't wait for the ceremony to be over so that you could leave Harry Herpson High, never look back, and go have dinner. You remember walking through the crowd, trying to avoid some of your crying classmates and you took off your hat and held it by the tassel, bored and unaware of the woman passing your way. She appeared out of place in a blue tracksuit, but you didn't care, though you were met by her sweet perfume which was a mix of vanilla and lavender and before you knew you it, you heard a cry. Yet, even though you were the one who had hit her, she was overly apologetic and had congratulated you, but you were only half listening and left the moment she stopped talking. Goodness, not only had you been rude, but it should've been obvious. “That was you?”

“Yeah.” he nodded, scratching the back of his neck. “I wanted t-to make sure everything went well because I had heard coach Feratu was causing trouble a-again, but luckily he got distracted by a blood drive down the road. So I stayed t-t-to watch and tried to blend in as one of the coaches, though I left after we ran into each other because I-I didn't feel like I belonged there. I was so happy for you because I-I knew you had thought of dropping out a few times, but to congratulate you further, I left a gift basket at your doorway. I'm glad you enjoyed the cookies. Your father told me all about it before th-the stern talk he gave me the next day. He knew a little about what I did for work, but not completely and being familiar with my various disguises he must've seen me. I assured him that I wasn't and wouldn't try anything. How could I? You were s-so young and you were safe because it would never happen. I was old, and you'd never….. oh gosh what am I saying? I'm rambling again.”

You didn't know. Your father never said anything about Rick, but you knew he had his gardening friends. Still, this was quite a development. “No, go on. I want to know.”

“To make a long story short, I went on a two-year mission after that, but I came home every so often to check in on th-the automated watering system and on the robot clone. He mostly kept things clean and restored pieces of furniture. Though, your father didn't know I left, so he would come over t-t-to chat. When I had th-the time, I watched the footage of the conversations, and he - he brought you up a lot. He was worried about your future, about the guys who wanted to date you, and what you'd do after he was gone. I'm s-s-so sorry about that. If I would've known I…”

“Don't apologize,” you interrupted. “because you can't do anything about it anymore.”

“I know, but I would've tried if I knew. He was a good man and I-I enjoyed his friendship, and because of that, I promised to stay away from you as much as I could. He th-thought I was dangerous and he wasn't wrong, because technically I am. On my body, w-with all the enhancements I have, I am a living weapon. It's a-a job requirement, but I plan t-to disarm them someday. Gosh,” he sighed. “that's a-another thing I hadn't told you before now.”

Giving his hand a squeeze, you stopped whatever train of thought which might've been going through his head. “I had a strong feeling you had them. The enhancements I mean. Don't worry, it doesn't bother me a bit. You can go on.”

“That's good t-t-to know. I was a bit worried about that. Anyway, he used tell to me all about you, and he was s-so proud of everything you did. I never got tired of listening to him, but I-I noticed he visited less and less until he was bedridden and later on passed. Thankfully, my robot let me know, and I had gotten back in th-the nick of time to attend the funeral service. I wanted t-t-to make sure y-you were going to be okay so I came early. This time, I-I was the one in the back who volunteered t-to play the organ because I knew you were heartbroken.”

You teared up at this, because you had expected to hear heart-wrenching hymns, but instead had gotten the sweet sounds of the familiar melodies which had been your father's favorites and it had warmed your heart, and gotten you through that service, as well as the rest of the evening when you played back the audio recording you took. You remembered the bouquet which had been left for you, and again the basket of goodies which was similar to the one you had gotten years earlier. He was always one step ahead of you, wasn't he? How unfair. “What else are you going to tell me? What else have you done that I don't know about?” 

“There isn't much. I saw you once at th-the library and a few times at the grocery store. You would pass by my house, and I'd see you from the garage, but I-I didn't know what to say. Took me a-a few years, but w-we eventually did meet. The right way.”

“Rick, that still doesn't explain much. It explains how you were part of my life, and what you did for me, but what did I do for you, my wonderful, dearest man?”

“More than y-you could ever know. From that day forward, I-I-I was very attached to you. I wanted to know you, and I thought it - it would be easy, but you were strong-willed. That's good because it takes a-a strong woman to deal with Ricks. When we talked, y-your eyes lit up as though I were the world, and y-you had so many ideas; it was refreshing. You'd flip your hair, and never seemed bothered t-to have me around so I lingered, even though a-a part of me wondered if this was wrong. Like a moth t-t-to a flame, I couldn't stay away. I was attracted t-t-to all of you.”

“I used to think that too, that I was too young, and I knew what my father would think. Goodness, what he'd thought, but I reasoned that if we both liked each other, and since we were adults then why not?”

“You never thought I was gross?”

“No. You were sweet, and earnest and had never given me a reason to think that I shouldn't try. Honestly, I used to wish I was older because I didn't want you to worry about things like that. So that I could've just reached over and kissed you without you thinking it was impulsive or that I was lonely. Honestly, I was lonely and then you came I wasn't anymore. I'm glad you're here with me even though I'm no mad genius, and that I'm just me. I'm happy you leave.”

Moving your seat closer, you kissed his cheek which made him blush. Resting his hand on your cheek, he brushed your lips with the pad of his thumb. “I-I-I never felt anything except like a brother to her, but with you - when you kiss me,” he softened, leaning towards you; his piercing blue eyes and sincere words cutting the marrow of your bones. “I-I-I know I belong to you princess. That I'll - I'll always be addicted to you, and I'll never want to stop.”

“Then why do you? Why do you hold back from a good thing?”

With his breath feathering your lips, he whispered. “Because I-I-I can't do what my parents did. I-I have to do what's right. I have t-t-to be careful.”

Pushing him lightly, you giggled. “Of me? Silly man, I think it's me that has to be careful. You old charmer. Whatever you want, however, you want to do this and I'll go along with it. By the way, why don't you remove the disguise? Your young face is nice, but I want you as you are. As the man I fell in love with. Can you do that?”

Looking at you in that funny way as he did from time to time, he brightened. “As y-you wish.”

Moving the clock hands on his watch, he returned back to the way you knew him; wrinkles and all. “There you are handsome. I was wondering when I was going to get to see you again.”

“Do you really like me like this?”

“Of course, it's the face I dream about and I can say that no face had ever made such an impression.”

“Then for once, I-I did something right.”

“No Ricky,” you softened. “you've always done everything right.”

Lifting your chin, he pressed his lips firmly upon yours, and you felt him smiling and everything was just right. When his tongue sought entrance, you welcomed him, and hummed into his soft mouth; his affection covering the multitude of sins which your anger had caused you to think. As imperfect creatures made up of space dust, flesh, and boxes of dreams, you two were made to feel each other's love; as cliché, as might as it seem. You pulled back when you're head began to spin, ending the kiss earlier then he wished, which had him chasing your mouth, but you teased. “Eager aren't we? You act like you aren't going to see me.”

“I-I hope I didn't hurt you. Was that ok? Did m-my teeth get in the way again?”

“No, not this time. You're…you're quite an enigma, Ricardo. I feel as though there is so much I want to know about you, and I'm only just scratching the surface. I hope that the rest of this trip will go well and you'll let me know more about you. Either way, I'm glad you brought me here. I wasn't so sure about it, but I got to know more about myself and about you.”

“I-I'm happy too. And I know it's next week, but happy anniversary mi corazón. I'll make sure that we'll have a-a great time and I'll get you whatever y-y-you want.”

“Rick,” you giggled. “I do have what I want. You. Dear, I look forward to all the anniversaries that come after next week, and whatever we do, I'll be fine with it. As long as it makes us both happy. As a family. Doesn't that sound good?”

“It sure does.” he sniffled, pressing a soft kiss on your hand. “As a family.”


End file.
